


Cruel Devotion

by Pantone_palette



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Consent, Delusions, Devotion, Emotionally unstable, Face Slapping, Feral Behavior, Gay, Gun Kink, Hand Jobs, Homosexual, Kinky, M/M, Mania, Manic Episode, Masturbation, Mind Manipulation, Mouth Kink, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Oral, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Psychological, Religious Fanaticism, Rough Body Play, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Slapping, Smut, Tyrell Wellick Lives, breath play, psychosexual, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29936010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pantone_palette/pseuds/Pantone_palette
Summary: Mr. Robot is manic and soundly off his rocker. He needs to wheel in Wellick the only way he knows how- manipulating his emotions and feed his own feelings of grandeur. Today, he can do anything. Today, he will.This psychosexual thriller is a doozy, one, that hopefully, Mr. Robot will come down from.
Relationships: Mr. Robot/Tyrell Wellick
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Cruel Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wind me up and let me go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538400) by [Bagofsin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagofsin/pseuds/Bagofsin). 



> Grab a pair of headphones and experience set immersion: #2 by Aphex Twin https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=317803ySleI

Mr. Robot’s thumb clicked the pin of the revolver, cocking an active bullet in the chamber. The sound slides against Tyrell’s eardrum before feeling a bite of cold metal dig into his temple. This was not a moment for negotiation, it was the means of survival. 

Slowly, the Swede’s arms raised, a wash of lightheadedness coming over him. This was- an unexpected moment. The Arcade was a place of safety, for hackers to meet in IRL to get away from danger, and yet-

“Get on your fucking knees or I’m blowing your shit face to smithereens,” Mr. Robot hissed in his ear, his small frame looming with bloodthirst. He was a wild animal, only caged by his own body. Almost nothing was off-limits if it meant he got what he fucking wanted. And murder was apart of that category.

The color dropped from Wellick’s face, leaving a frail transparency to his eyes. Slowly, he left his seat at the computer and stood on his knees with bated breaths. If he could stand, he wasn’t sure for how long. 

Wellick knew exactly how expendable he really was. After 5/9, chaos had set in. The world had been turned upside down and frankly- everyone wanted him dead. The fact that he wasn’t, meant there was a use for him- yet he was but a fly in another spider’s web. Those cards were not in his hand.

It was time he paid for his prized position.

Robot dragged the edge of the sight to between the others brows, making the man softly cry in pain as blood split from end to end. Some of it washed down his face and seeped into his eyes, flooding his sight a cherry red. Tonight may be the night he sees the end.

The sight suddenly jerked upward, treating itself against the skin north along the bone. Momentarily, it disconnected from the flesh, its handler wild and uncontrollable for nearly a moment. Robot cleared his throat, putting it back into the man’s scalp.

Wellick’s eye fluttered.

“To be frank, I didn’t always like you. With your shit-stained grin and fancy clothes- and your murderous tendencies..” His free hand gestured in a circular motion, generally at the whole of the scumfuck, “You’re a loose cannon! And that’s saying much, coming from me. People think I’m crazy, but you?” His eyebrows shot up, “You’re a whole other kind of crazy, and I’m not sure how to handle you.” His eyes scanned the man, contemplating his next words, chewing on them. “But that’s something I’ve grown to like....” He purred. His body haunched forward, as to size up an unbeknownst prey. To know a man, you must become a man. But a thing of God, cannot be touched.

“I was thinking to myself last night, what do you do with someone like you? You run off, screw up my plans, probably wanna go run off to mommy… We can’t have that here. Any of it, actually,” His mouth looked wicked, oh-so pleased with the stature of his ego. The trembling fear Wellick imbued, “But you do have something going for you- your undying loyalty! That is something, I can still use. Something that is useful to me,” He guided the barrel down Wellick’s skull and stopped as it brushed against his soft lips. It caressed it open, Wellick parting his lips with fear.

“But in this outfit, we can’t have any new key players. Things have been set in motion, and you either leave- and die like a fucking cockroach, or-“ Slowly, he began sliding the end against his set of incisors. “Or you can join me and know how to truly live.” Robot’s voice had gone flat, a kind of milky film sliding over his eyes. Something filtering into his brain.

“Will you do what I say? Without hesitation and thought?” The last word stung off his tongue, watching those pretty lips shift under the gun.

Wellick swallowed, his eyes traveling up to his face. They peered eyed to eyed, with a level of divine absolution.

“Yes.”

Robot’s hand cracked against his cheek, Wellick’s body doubling over in pain in a shout of pain. “There’s no takebacks,” He hissed. 

Wellick’s lips curled back, spitting out blood, “Yes!” He yipped.

“-I didn’t hear you,” He sneered, yanking Wellick’s frame upright. 

“I SAID YES!” He shouted, veins popping. 

Robot grabbed the back of his head and jolted the barrel into the back of his mouth, clanging against teeth and sensitive flesh. Wellick’s face contorted in the pulses of pain as Robot reaching, snatched his hand, and shoving it against his own tight crotch. 

“Now slut, tell me how much you want to suck my cock,”

Tyrell’s eyes searched in confusion, deeply unsettled by the man’s erratic behavior. He was usually an unstable man- but this? This was a whole new level.

“I didn’t hear you~” He turned the gun, planting it deep in the inside of his cheek like a popped cock.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

Wellick mumbled words, drool beginning to leak from his mouth and slopping on his fine pressed pants. The material darkened, slicking his crotch. It was cold and wet against his hard hot mass. The bits of pain and pleasure, the level of humiliation making the hairs on his skin raise. He oddly felt more alive than before, feeling the pulse of blood course through his veins like a freshly shot-up drug. Each breath felt new- filling his lungs with menthol-like air before being released around the cold bite of the gun. The sight cut along the roof of his mouth, bloody copper mixing with his gunpowder meal.

Robot’s hand bent down to the man’s ear, his other hand forcefully grabbed Wellick’s balls. He enjoyed the deep grunt he made.

“Tell me how much you love me,” The hand turned to a soothed rough pet. He really didn’t give a fuck about how he handled him. 

Wellick sputtered and moaned, a garbled sound coming out of his mouth. Oddly, he wished for this deep level of humiliation. To feel oddly shameful, of wanting to be degraded. He was a man who vied for power day and night, doing anything he deemed necessary. He secretly craved such debasement, utter destitution of his body to feel whole again. He wanted to pay a mental penance for his unworldly sins. This he was delighted to have.

Pleasure had never been a rational experience for Tyrell. It was squarely situated on the grounds of power- of having power, of exerting power, and said power taken away. Rarely had he come across such a man with such strong desires as Elliot’s- it was divine. Tonight, he didn’t need to think, and instead, he would be the hole he deeply craved to be. An embodiment of his psycho-sexual mind rooted down to the basic human functions. Frued would be proud. 

His tongue swirled around the head of the gun, flicking the warm muscle over the open hole~ His cheeks hollowing as he began sucking the hard heat with deep passion.

“Jesus,” Robot breathed, almost taken aback by Wellick’s vigor for abated breathe. He knew he’d be a secret slut, but this! This was a glorious surprise. 

He reached down and pulled Wellick’s pants open, fondling the man’s slick erect cock. Robot began stroking him, knees bending, turning the Swede’s garbled sounds into something sweeter. Wellick’s legs opened, offering himself up to the pleasure of his master.

Wellick’s mouth treated the gun like a treat, sucking and hollowing his lips as it thrust between his lips. He didn’t want to let it go, even when it sunk back to the back of his throat, forcing him to roll his head back. Instead, his cock leaked, hips thrusting with each stroke into Robot’s hand with a delightful smack. He was lost between the thrusts, working a steady rhythm in his hands.

The hand left his length and traveled to Wellick’s face. It was cool as it grazed his cheek, before becoming incredibly wicked.

It snapped around Wellick’s neck with a locked arm, Robot throwing his body weight into it.

Tyrell gasped and his eyes flared, slowly adjusting to the lack of air and the heat forming underneath his head. His body hummed, numbing with a soft, existential pleasure of an abnormal high. He had fallen silent, riding these waves of pleasure as his eyes rolling to the back of his head in a delightful sight. Hips scraping upwards in desperate, unable unattended need. His noises became raspy in its constricted breathing, still sucking on the metal but with new refueled vigor. There wasn’t much room in that tight mouth, with such a big length, fucking it, to breathe. 

That really didn’t matter, not when there was more to feel.

His consciousness climbed into a grey subliminal space, the blood throbbing in his brain. He could feel the building of pressure in his balls.

When his mind would get so high and begin to slip, Robot would ease, toying with him at this edge. It kept him drunk and lucid, malleable under the touch. 

“Stick your tongue out,” He commanded and the dog did as he instructed. Forcing a tongue beneath the gun, flexing down between his lips. The barrel was removed, clanging against his teeth in the process. He winced for a moment, catching the sight of the silver being lid into Robot’s back pocket. Popping his cock between the zipper of his pants, a light mound of pubic hair showing between the threads of the fabric, the zipper.

Robot stroked his hard cock, his heat feeling sharp in the color air around them. Eyes following a bead of saliva dropping off the tip of Wellick’s tongue with a revelation of lust.

He grabbed his hair and yanked his face to his hips, the dog grunting in pain, momentarily slipping his tongue back into his sore hole.

“Nice try cum fucker,” And it was pried back out, pinching and pulling it forward- disobedience would not be tolerated.

“You know me, I’m a man with a plan,” He stated, slicking his hard cock with Wellick’s residual juices. “All plans have a purpose-“ He grunted as he slid into Tyrell’s filthy hot mouth.

The Swede’s mind was lost, caught up in a hazy dream of pleasure and humiliation. At some point, he had been reduced to a hole, a cavity, one that he found pleasure in being, in consuming and accepting Robot’s might. His cock had remained hard, tight against his soft abs as he leaked precum. The bead on the top of his head flowed, trailing down and dripping down his own skin. His vision had grown dark and sat at rested slits.

“Stay there-“ he breathed, yanking his head against his crotch, firmly barring his cock in the back of his throat. “Fucking stay there you cum fucker,” Wellick choked, his gap reflex hitting and sputtered against Robot’s hips with nowhere to go. “Just like that~”

Sounds burst from the back of his throat, spit slipping down his neck, and lathered his chest. 

Robot burst and forced him to swallow hot seed into his empty stomach. Soon, he would be given air, but only after Mr. Robot shuttered, ridding the intoxicating flowing through his body. Tyrell’s mind had been lost, left between the pleasure and the lack of air. 

His sight was spotty. He really didn’t care.

Slowly, Mr. Robot withdrew his soft cock and reached for Wellick’s tie, cleaning himself off. He buttoned up his pants and peered at the mess he had made.

Tyrell had fully creamed himself in the last moments of his breath, although still breathing and half awake. He was living in a grey, subliminal space between time and space, living in erotic ecstasy. The lack of air had made his will weak, weak enough where his might gave way and responded by its own… His crotch was still tented and freshly wet- thick and oozing from the cum he had spurted in the last moments of being firmly choked. He was living in divine pleasure.

Even now, it would not relent, still jerking, broken from the rest of Tyrell’s still body.

Mr. Robot checked his hooded blank eyes, pulling the lids open. They ballooned under the dark light, consuming the iris.

“Du är min (You're mine)” He purred.


End file.
